


The Last Goodbye

by Blondie54x



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:28:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27836818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blondie54x/pseuds/Blondie54x
Summary: Mourning the loss of his partner, Napoleon gets some advice from a fellow agent.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34





	The Last Goodbye

Napoleon shivered in the cool of the mortuary room and took a deep breath. 

  
This was the moment he’d always dreaded, the moment that seemed fated in their line of business, and though he’d always managed to close his mind to the possibility, that day had regrettably arrived.

He stood before the body on the stainless steel trolley and pulled back the sheet covering the face. His heart clenched at the sight of his dead partner. Dried blood tinted the blond hair a rust colour on one side and the pale face was tinged blue and marred by a livid bruise on the chin. Beneath the permanently closed eyelids he knew from past experience that the familiar blue eyes would be cloudy in death. 

He looked like he was sleeping, but this was a slumber he’d never wake from. He was gone, dead, never to speak again. No more late-night drinking sessions after a difficult assignment, no more long, heated discussions late into the night. No more friendly banter, no more teasing. No more fine dining, no more competing to win over the female flavor-of-the-month.

The loss hit Napoleon once again, rolling over him like a relentless steam roller. Heartache was real, physical, leaving a dull pain in the chest. He took a deep breath, tamping down the nausea and swallowed hard, trying to keep the tears at bay.

He heard the door open behind him and carefully schooled his face to a neutral expression before turning around. The agent Waverly sent to accompany him stood there, solemn faced, hands crossed in front of him.

“I have a car outside when you’re ready, Mr Solo.”

“Thank you. Just give me a minute.” Napoleon turned back towards the lifeless body, reluctant to leave his friend; a loner by nature, he would make the final journey alone. This would be Napoleon’s last goodbye.

Soft footsteps came closer and the agent asked, “Were you partners long?”

“Two years.”

Napoleon heard him sigh before he said, “It’s hard. You form a strong bond during a long term partnership. You rely on each other, know what each other is thinking. You become family.”

Napoleon nodded. “We were like brothers.” _More than brothers_ , he thought. He glanced at the other man. “You sound like someone speaking from experience.”

The man sighed. “I lost a partner eighteen months ago in a Thrush ambush.”

It was oddly comforting to have someone with him who knew exactly what he was feeling right now. No need to explain how it felt like a part of him had been ripped away, or how his whole body ached with the loss. He had no idea how he was going to get over this.

As if reading his mind, the agent said, “It does get better, you know. With time. But you never forget.”

“I don’t want to forget.” He reached out and started to pull the sheet down lower, needing to see the killing wound, but the agent’s hand stopped him with a gentle touch to his wrist.

“Don’t. It won’t help.”

Napoleon knew he was right. It would be torture to see the fatal injury, to see the damage that took the life of his friend; he didn’t need another addition to his current nightmares. He dropped his hold on the material and briefly touched the cold skin on his friend’s face.

“We see so much death,” the other man continued, interrupting his thoughts. “You think we’d be used to it. But it’s different when it’s one of your own.” His head cocked to one side. “What was he like?”

Napoleon smiled. Where did he start with two years’ worth of memories? “He was smart. Too smart for his own good, sometimes. And funny, though not many people saw that side of him. He was a good man to have in a tight situation. Reliable, you know? He was kind to animals and old ladies, but ferocious in a fight.” Napoleon faltered as his voice began to break. He took a deep, steadying breath. “I’m going to miss him so much.”

“You wouldn’t be human if you didn’t.”

Napoleon slowly shook his head. “I don’t know if I can work without him. Maybe I should quit.”

The agent nodded towards the body. “Do you think that’s what he would have wanted?”

Napoleon sighed. “No. Probably not.”

“Give yourself a chance to mourn. Things will look different in a few days’ time.”

Napoleon scrubbed at his face. “I’m not sure it will. It all seems so pointless, a waste of life. A waste of _his_ life.” 

“And yet he sacrificed his life to save those people. You would do the same. So would I. How many innocent lives would be wasted if we didn’t do our job? Sometimes, we’re all that stands between life and death.”

Napoleon laughed, humourlessly. “Now you sound like him.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

They lapsed back into silence. After a few moments, Napoleon said, “You said you’d lost a partner. How did you cope?”

“I honoured him by carrying on. He believed in the work we do. We made a difference. Giving up would have made his death pointless.”

He was right, Napoleon knew. His partner would expect him to do the right thing.

He looked at his partner one last time, leaned over and touched him gently on the cheek. “Goodbye, old friend.” He pulled the sheet back up and turned to the other agent. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

They turned as one, exiting through the room without a backward glance and walked in silence till they got outside. Napoleon stopped, hands tucked into his jacket pockets. “I think I’ll take a walk.”

“I’ll come with you.”

Napoleon rolled his eyes. “You don’t need to babysit me.”

“Mr Waverly instructed me to.” Napoleon’s eyebrow rose in question. His escort said, “His exact words were ‘don’t let him out of your sight’.” 

Napoleon shook his head. “What does he think I’m going to do?”

“I suspect he thinks you may seek revenge.”

Napoleon raised his chin in a defiant stance. “Don’t you think I have that right?”

The agent looked at him, considering, head cocked to one side. “Confucius said ‘Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves’.” He reached out, put a comforting hand on Napoleon’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You do not want to end up like your friend. It _will_ be taken care of. Leave it to UNCLE.” 

Napoleon knew he was right. Already the red mist that had clouded his judgement the night before was starting to dissipate and reason started to reassert itself. Anger was being replaced by grief, and though he’d like nothing better than to be left alone in a room with the man who pulled the trigger, he knew he would honour UNCLE’s code of conduct. It’s what he believed in, after all. 

Napoleon nodded and turned, following the agent to the car. He slipped into the passenger seat and once the other man had settled in beside him Napoleon turned to him and said, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being there.”

The agent ducked his head. “You’re welcome.”

Napoleon leaned his head back against the seat and rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes. He had a headache and he desperately needed a drink. He glanced about. “Know any bars around here?”

“I know of an UNCLE approved bar on the other side of town.”

“Would you join me for a drink, Agent…I’m sorry.” He shook his head, embarrassed. “I don’t know your name.”

“Kuryakin. Illya Nicovetch Kuryakin. Call me Illya.”

Napoleon held out his hand and the other man shook it. “Call me Napoleon. Let’s go and raise a glass to our fallen comrades, Illya.”

“I’d consider it an honour, Napoleon,” Illya replied.

He took the car out of neutral and began their journey. 

**The Beginning, not The End**

**Author's Note:**

> Written on a rainy day, inspired by an episode of CSI. See? Too much TV can be good for you.


End file.
